Christmas & Other Poems

Birth of a feeling

And the dogs groan …
to make them satiate and sedate
a night was made
Intercourses, cold – to be performed
crossing the greedy voyeurs
of the neighbor
letters – handicapped
move along the ninth-month-hiatus –
alphabets born – chaotic …
afternoon – on the eight years birthday
crows, cats, men – resting
parallel to the double-barreled  gun
nights howl – dead mice – smell
of ancient lead – owls
coming along with fragrance of death
of preys …
the waited branches of pipul –
enters through the very blood
of the soul …
and, all the logics loose dead
rather
a feeling born …

Rendezvous

Going towards infinity ….
cold hands caressing
in the disguise of lve – stereotyped..
and I couldn’t forget
couldn’t see – the broken dreams
amidst the domestic jihads …
as if a late young night – looming –
with mother waiting in the doorside –
panic-stricken …

I speed up

and one day,
I met the infinity – crossing
the rivers, and the concretes ….
he touched with a Midas-hand –
he saw with a sudden paddy land –
turning lustrous in a starry night …
and finally
he took me ….

Twilight

The grasshoppers stand still – as still
As the gang of boys lamenting for the lst
cricket ball – the game stops
the woman reads – looses hair
With wet comb and mayfly – someone
touched them, or the twilight-smell –
still laden softly beside the lips –
……
……
……
.…..
.…..

a poet lies dead in the dark grass

Christmas

Christmas is yet to come this year …
Though winters looms – as the insects
creep along the moist wall.
we walk tiptoe – the city, sans pride –
sans poplar, aspen ….
still a douglas far born timely as the smile of
La Giaconda – lipside – as the houses of
Bo Barrack dances in spree – carols, chants
throughout the night …
oh! Where are our old days
where are our grandmothers
yarning fables in the sunny memory lane ..
still, the mighty assemblages – little colours
grabbing the hand of their mothers – with
altered class syllabus – and, hey, Mary Antonoitte
see – they are eating cakes,
dear lady, they are eating cakes ….
with emaciated lifelines of
poor Calcutta – the broken  Lady Magdalane –
night creeps, hanging shocks of
untold gifts – looming large in the next morning
with relics of Saint Nicolas …
and finally the devil calms – the night
pacifies with gins, champagnes – with
hardened nails in greedy gothics –
and I –
kiss you madly – make love – in a pose
of our mighty country –
let you be identified – my mother, my beloved
the witness of my last supper ….

how trifle it seems for
a 30 pieces of silver ….

We

We, who cannot fly kite, have our own skies …
or a rocky forest – with a bird looking futile
for her lost offsprings – with a cry of a hawk
in the soul …
with an unidentified moon
– an evening star – the very old grandmothers
weaving for the unknown time being …
with a pipul tree – a cursed branch
we, who cannot climb – lying behind, mute ….
With nonchalant neighbors –
lonely ponds having reflections
of the dreary images of ours and
our dead skies ..
We, who cannot swim, lie beside ….
With love, depression, sorrow –
with soundless horizon – mundanity –
and all the futile intercourse
in the unabortive nights – though, in vain…
we, lie behind –  sans loving with
our own women
in a festival night ….

…..Have seen you

We, who didn’t see you
envy those
who, saw you ..
amidst the very old 41,
amidst the grasping moribund
Niraja –
amidst the looming doubts of shilling hill
creeping through the domestic cracks
of Shovonlal …
amidst the gangraped Nandinis –
the kings of Kolkata celebrating
the Baisakhi spree …
in the meantime, the poet  dies, cries
looses in the tug of corpses …
declaring –
to deny you, is actually,
to reinvent you ..
and, you  – as still in my soul,
went into oblivion – we,
singin’ our daily office-roads –
thinking –
we, who didn’t see you
actually, more and more have seen you …

Translated from original by the poet.

About author

Anirban Bhattacharya
Anirban Bhattacharya 3 posts

Anirban writes mainly poetry and free verses. His poems was published in number of magazines like Bhashanagar, Adorer Nauka, Sudhu bighe dui, Natun Krittibas, Bristidin etc. His first book of poetry 'Santo nicolaser hargor' was published in 2015 from Dhansere. Presently, he is the Program Executive, Shantiniketan Durdarshan Kendra.

You might also like

An Ambivalent Text: Chayan Samaddar

I heard that Children’s Literature was ’Impossible’, I heard it was an amorphous entity, I heard that there was no readily definable body of Children’s Literature any more than there

Merchandise of Camelia Sinesis & Other Poems

মনোপলি আজ মুত্তিয়া মুরালিধরনের মতো একজন ক্যানভাসার দেখলাম, শুদ্ধ বাংলায় দাঁতের মাজন বিক্রি করছে। অবিকল জনি ডেপের মতো একজন আছে, দৈনিক পত্রিকায় ফটোগ্রাফারের চাকরি করে। ফ্রিদা কাহলোর মতন একজনকে দেখেছিলাম—জোড়-ভ্রূ—বাগেরহাটের

Nostalgia and Other Poems

grief I stood there, awash with sand dunes I never visit one foot twisted inside of itself: coquette, doll-thing. my father’s words washed over me, this script my antique. I

Zen poems

1) These rain drops Fresh and full Drenched in the Touch of sky Come dancing Like a naughty child   2) A kite   Looks like a swinging dot At

Sikkimizing & Other Poems

The Dawn Half the globe is played by the children And the rest gem-studded on rich man’s hat A poultry befitting into this little earth where morning starts with a

The One Who Brings Density of Haze & Other Poems: Marifé Santiago Bolaños

Writer Marifé Santiago Bolaños (Madrid, 1962) is a Doctor in Philosophy. As Professor of Aesthetics and Art Theory at the Rey Juan Carlos University, Madrid, her research focuses on the

Gaajan -A Hindu Folk Festival: Biswarup Saha

Gaajan is a Hindu festival associated with deities Shiva, Neel and Dharmathakur. Gajan spans around a week, starting at the last week of Choitro continuing till the end of the

Ghazal for Goregaon & Other Poems

Alone When my friends left the country, one by one, I ate and drank and sang at their farewells, talking of how true friendships last across the tunnel of distance.

Scent of Women & Other Poems

The last line Two consecutive lines of a poem Always have an ego clash. Who’ll seat beneath? Who cares? No one wants to… But one has to sit. The succeeding

Bon Appétit

I rose stiffly as he entered the dining room – noisily, laboriously – and plodded towards the table where I was seated. I had been dreading this lunch, but once

Origin of the meat & Other Poems: Andrés Neuman

Canción del insomne / Song of the insomniac Everything turns dark And it’s a lie that nobody sees the light. They make us glittering, make us blind. A coffee, Is

The Testimony of God

Premashila’s seven-year-old son died on the train. Mother and son were travelling to their village from Hyderabad along with some daily-wage labourers whom she worked with in the city. The

For the Fragrance of Puran Poli & Other Poems: Ravi Korde

Name : RAVI LAXMIKANT KORDE. Born on 14th Jan. 1979.  Place: Jalgav Mete,  Aurangabad District, (MAHARASHTRA). Completed Masters Degree in English Literature. Poetry Collection in Marathi entitled ‘Dhoosar Zale Naste

Book & Film 0 Comments

The Story of the Eye: An exquisite read BY Souva Chattopadhyay

Georges Bataille’s infamous book “The Story of the Eye” always poses before me a difficult question—what is the difference between pornography and a normal work of fiction suffused with sexual

Heartcage v/s Sealedlips, Shuteye: A Reaction on Reading Tanvir Ratul’s Bawkkhopinjawr Bawnam OshThho aar Chokhbawndher Kobita

Tanvir Ratul first started writing when he was at the end of his high school. Over the time, the list of his published books grew to a considerable number along

Anathpindat & other Poems

Anathpindat* Rotten sea shell gashes your opium dream Before the morning prayer dance floor dishevels. While taking coffee in this bordello city Sleep evaporates from checkered table cloth. With cloud

‘Growing Up, Growing Out’ & Other Poems: Rajosik Mitra

Honestly I have no pain, nothing to speak of anyway, all I’ve had I’ve had in vain- Shadows and rain, and that bolt from heaven- hydrolyzing, split and scattered us

The Rain and Other Poems: Shankha Ghosh

Shankha Ghosh (born 6 February 1932) is a Bengali poet and critic, born in Chandpur of present day Bangladesh. He is a leading authority on Rabindranath Tagore. Other than that,

Authors 0 Comments

Inception and the Philosophy of Mind

“Admit it. You no longer believe in one reality. So choose. Choose to be here. Choose me”. These enigmatic dialogues, directed towards Dominic Cobb are spoken by his subconscious which

0 Comments

No Comments Yet!

You can be first to comment this post!

Leave a Reply